Chapter 35

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FIVE

“ H arry,” Belle said, and she took a step toward him. “Don’t.” She refused to look at CeCe Holmes, for the woman didn’t deserve her attention.

Harry actually growled at her, and oh, Belle didn’t think she could stop this tornado. Maybe it was a tsunami, a hurricane, or both. He glared at her and then at the two women. “Belle is not my girlfriend just so she can get back into country music,” he said in a plain, monotone, crisp voice. “You need to apologize to her right now.”

Pure humiliation filled Belle, and she honestly should have expected this. The country music world was big and yet also really small, as evidenced by having CeCe Holmes here. She’d been a backup singer in Nashville for the past decade, and Belle had gotten to know her there in her last year of trying to make it with a record label .

“I didn’t say that,” Mariah said. “I said I was very excited to meet you, Belle.” She smiled at her and said, “I’m Mariah Barry. It’s nice to meet you.”

Belle forced a smile. “Belle Graves.”

She looked at CeCe, everything in her telling her to get out of there right now. Just run away. She hated that she had to put her sandals back on to leave the house. She hated that her raw emotions teemed just beneath her tongue. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she looked away, scanning down the bar to find something to drink.

“Come on, Harry,” she said. “There’s plenty of Diet Doctor Pepper here.”

“No,” Harry said. “CeCe needs to apologize, or CeCe will be finding herself another job.”

“I’m sorry, Belle,” CeCe said quickly. “Really.”

Belle turned from further down the counter and watched as CeCe looked between Harry and then her. “Really, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Belle said. “It’s nothing.”

Harry glared at CeCe as he moved past her and came to take Belle’s hand in his.

“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered at him.

“Well, you’re not my girlfriend just because I can get you into country music,” he said loudly.

“Of course not,” she hissed. “But she’s not worth it, and you embarrassed me.”

Harry towed her toward the living room, where several of his bandmates waited, as well as Boston and Adam. They both watched him, clearly sensing something off, and Belle just wanted everything to be normal.

“Let’s talk about this later,” she said quietly, and then she pulled her hand away from Harry and went to congratulate Boston on his first successful online concert.

Harry interacted with his friends and crew, but he never lightened up. The storm inside him brewed, boiled, and blew. Belle didn’t mind his grumpy attitude, and in fact, she found him downright attractive because of it—but not when it put her in the spotlight like it had tonight.

“You better take him home,” Adam said about an hour later. “He doesn’t look like he’s having any fun at all.”

He grinned at Harry, who simply rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m done for today.” He got up from the couch where he’d been sitting and called around, “Thank you everyone for a great concert. Thank you. Thank you so much. Call time on Friday?” He looked at Boston, clearly expecting him to know the details he didn’t.

Boston scrambled to his feet and set aside his can of Coke Zero. “Call time on Friday morning is seven a.m. at Daily Grind. Call time on Saturday, three p.m. at The Branding Iron. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Thank you,” Harry said again, smiling now as he left the living room. “Really, thank you all.”

Belle had done her best to talk to people, something she was quite good at. Nobody really scared her, as she’d had to interview plenty of people as a police officer. She didn’t like being in the spotlight much, but all eyes came to her as Harry drew her to his side and placed a kiss on her temple.

“We’ll see everyone in a couple of days,” he said, and then he turned her toward the mudroom. Harry hadn’t taken off his boots, but he waited for her while she re-laced her sandals on her feet. He then went outside to his truck and helped her in. They didn’t speak on the way back to her apartment either. Belle wasn’t sure what to say, and Harry clearly had too many words inside him.

As he pulled into the parking lot at her apartment building, he said, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I know that,” she said.

“I still want to fire CeCe.”

“I wouldn’t,” Belle said. “She apologized, and you’ll have to give a reason. And what are you going to say? She wasn’t nice to my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “That’s exactly what I’m going to say. It’s my concert tour. She doesn’t have to be here.”

Belle just shook her head. “It won’t do any good. I’m sure she’s not the only person who feels that way.”

“Why would they?” Harry said. “You’ve never once asked me to introduce you to anyone. You didn’t ask to be on this tour. You didn’t ask to play for me. You never gave me a song.” He pulled into a spot and jammed his truck into park.

Belle looked at him, wondering if he really didn’t understand how most normal people thought. “But they don’t know that, Harry. For all they know, I did do all those things.”

She swallowed, the truth straining to come out. “And besides,” she said. “I did think about asking you for some tips on how to set up cameras and lights, so that I could play my songs on social media the way you do.”

He blinked at her. “I can show you how to do that,” he said.

“But is that me using you?” she asked.

“Social media is a really great place for musicians these days,” he said. “It wouldn’t matter if we were dating or not. You could totally do what I did. Hundreds and thousands of people do. You’re not using me.”

“Okay.” She reached over and took his hand. “Are you going to be mad forever?”

“No,” he said, but he still sounded totally mad.

“Is it too late for you to come in and lay on my couch with me?” Belle gave him a small smile, another sentence pressing against her vocal cords. “I think I need you to promise me one more thing.”

“All right,” he said. “What is it?”

“If you ever do feel like I’m using you, you have to tell me,” she said. “Because the very last thing I want—when I met you last year, I didn’t know who Harry Young was. When you texted me your name, I looked you up, and that’s when I learned you were a country music star. And in fact, it was a strike against you.”

“It was a strike against me?” he asked, incredulous. “How is having a good job a strike against me?”

“It was.” She looked at his hand, their fingers intertwined, and she played with his thumb. “Remember, I don’t like country music. I didn’t like the industry. I felt used and abused, and I never, never want you to feel like that. Not because of me.”

“Okay,” he said. “If you don’t want to play in Jackson, you don’t have to.”

“I’ve already signed the contract. I thought long and hard about it. I prayed about it, and I can play in Jackson.” She looked up at him, wishing she could just peel back the layers of her mind and let him see them. Let him see how important it was to her that he know her intentions were and always had been innocent and pure.

“People might fall in love with you,” he said with a small smile. “They might think you’re better than me. Rebel loved the twenty-second sample I sent them, and they’ve asked lots of questions about you already.”

“I’m not going into country music,” Belle said as she looked out the windshield and then through her side window. “I do like writing songs, though.”

“Maybe we’ll become a famous songwriting duo,” he whispered.

Belle took a few seconds to really imagine what that would be like. She couldn’t quite see it, because so many things in her life had not turned out the way she’d fantasized.

Her mind held so many memories of bad things, rough situations, terrifying emotions.

Then she turned to face Harry again, and all the purity and innocence he possessed filtered into her heart, giving her courage. “I asked your mom for a recommendation for a counselor. ”

Harry pulled in a breath and searched her face with those dark eyes. At least they didn’t accuse her of anything.

“I know you don’t like me talking to her too much,” Belle said. “I swear I’m not?—”

“You can talk to her as much as you want.” Harry ducked his head, showing her the top of his cowboy hat. “I just want you to talk to me too.”

“I am talking to you too,” she said. “I feel like I need to talk to someone about my time undercover.” She didn’t speak very loud, almost like if she did, something black and ugly would come out and stain them both.

“The Sheriff’s Department will pay for it. I’ve already filed the paperwork with Larry. They said anyone I pick here will be approved.”

“All right,” Harry said. “There’s no problem with getting the help you need.”

She reached over and cradled his face in her hand, causing him to lift his head and look at her. “Your mom said you saw a counselor when you were a teenager. For a little bit.”

“Yep,” he said. “I was really struggling with my mother’s abandonment. My dad put me in counseling. It helped.”

Belle nodded, somewhat surprised he hadn’t gone into Grumpy Cat mode over his mom telling her something he hadn’t divulged yet.

“I’m going to miss the show at Souper Salad next week,” she said. “I’ve been called to Jackson to record testimony for the District Attorney.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “Do you want me to go with you? ”

Belle nodded and pressed her lips together as they started to shake. “Yes, I want you to go with me,” she said. “But you have a concert that night.”

“It’s at night,” he said. “We’ll be back in time.”

“But what if we’re not?” Belle asked.

“Then I’ll call a car and head back here. You can drive my truck back and rush in last-minute to see my brilliant performance.” He grinned at her, and she marveled at how he could turn any situation into something that made her smile.

“I want to go with you,” he said. “When is it?”

“Wednesday,” she said.

“Wednesday. I’ll have Adam put it on my calendar.”

A snake struck inside Belle’s stomach, and she had to get the words out before they poisoned her. “Is there any part of your life you manage yourself?”

Harry once again blinked, blinked, blinked at her.

“I don’t want Adam to know,” she said. “I like him. He’s a nice guy, and I know he’s your best friend, and you trust him with everything. But isn’t there anything that can just be…you? Stuff that just we know about?”

“This is just us right now,” he said, a measure of frustration in his voice.

A new day had started an hour ago, and Belle simply wanted to head inside and go to bed. So she leaned toward Harry and kissed him gently before she said, “I’m just going to go to bed, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right,” Harry whispered, but he didn’t sound happy about it. “Can I bring lunch by? ”

“Yeah,” Belle said. “I’m just going to be looking for jobs online and finishing up paperwork for the Department. My last day is on Friday.”

“I know.” He tucked her hair behind her ear in such a sweet gesture that Belle wanted to stay in the car with him, or she wanted to invite him in to lay on the couch the way he wanted.

At the same time, they’d both had a very busy evening filled with a lot of ups and downs and roller-coaster-emotions. Belle wanted to figure out why what CeCe said had bothered him so much, and why him being unable to manage even one of his own appointments bothered her so much.

“See you tomorrow.” She got out of his truck by herself. She didn’t look back as she walked toward her apartment and started up the steps. “You knew who you were getting when you went out with him,” she told herself. “It’s unfair to now be upset that he acts like a celebrity when you knew he was a celebrity.”

That was true, and yet Belle didn’t want Adam to manage Harry’s personal affairs. If he couldn’t keep track of what day she needed to be in Jackson for her deposition, then she didn’t want him to come.

Her phone sounded as she keyed her way into her apartment. She glanced at it, knowing it was Harry. Sweet dreams, my Belle.

Another text came in that said, Can we lay on your couch tomorrow afternoon? It’s my favorite thing to do.

She smiled softly, closed the door behind her, and locked it before she texted him back. Why is that your favorite thing to do?

She really didn’t need a multitude of compliments, but she did want to know why Harry liked that so much. He didn’t seem like a lazy man, as she’d seen him work harder than anyone Belle had ever met.

Because when it’s me and you on the couch , he said. It’s just me and you. I feel strong and capable, and I can manage my own life when it’s just me and you.

“Me and you.” Belle sighed out the words, because they too sounded like a song title for something she’d very much like to write.

Tell me what time we need to go to Jackson on Wednesday, and I’ll put it on my calendar. And I’ll be there. Adam won’t be involved.

Belle sank onto her couch, relief running through her. Thank you, Harry. And then she typed out, Yes, we can lay on the couch tomorrow afternoon—but only after we stop by the animal shelter again. I still want a cat.